


Blindfolded

by cosmogyrals



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmogyrals/pseuds/cosmogyrals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...just a bit of gratuitous Ten/Martha sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blindfolded

"Tell me when I can look," Martha calls out, tugging at the blindfold that's tied tightly around her eyes to make sure it's secure. She's still not sure why the Doctor's insisted on such secrecy; being shy, of all things, doesn't exactly seem like him. Maybe he's got a blindfold fetish, she thinks wryly, taking another step forward and hoping he won't make her keep it on the whole time. She can't help but think of the myth of Eros and Psyche, and wonders if the Doctor will disappear beyond her reach once she sets eyes on him, only to be returned to her when she completes a series of impossible tasks.

But all thought of myths and folktales disappear from her mind when a pair of arms embraces her, pulling her close. She can feel that he's naked; she reaches out, exploring his bare skin with his fingertips, letting them paint a picture for her. "There's a mole between your shoulderblades," she points out, laughing, her tone of voice a little incredulous. She still can't believe that she's doing this - that _they're_ doing this.

He chuckles, and when he speaks, the timbre of his voice a little different - darker and richer, more sensual. "I rather like that mole, I'll have you know. That mole and I have been through a lot together." He bends to kiss her neck, his hands plucking at her clothes insistently. Martha gets the hint - how could she not? - and reluctantly moves her hands back to her own body, slipping out of her jeans and knickers and letting them slide to the floor. He's busying himself with her top and bra, his fingers fumbling a little on the clasp.

"Nine hundred years old, and you still can't manage to take a bra off a girl," she teases him. "It's not rocket science, you know."

"Mmm," he hums against her neck as his fingers slip again. "No, rocket science is a good deal easier, I'll have you know. Could do that with both hands tied behind my back. Think I have done, actually, this one time on Tenaltec 7, they'd wrapped me in vines and tied me up in this shuttle that was an ancient relic from when their ancestors crash-landed, dunno how they were planning on flying it, or, rather, flying me into the sun -"

It's a good thing Martha has the blindfold on, because she's rolling her eyes right now. To shut him up, she skims her fingers down his chest, following the curve of his hip, and wraps a hand around him, squeezing gently, and is promptly rewarded with silence. The bra comes off, and now his hands are roaming, too, and she shudders and presses up against him, delighting in the feeling of skin against skin. He's cooler than she is, and she can feel his heartbeats thudding against his ribcage. Even during sex, she can't escape the knowledge of how _different_ he is.

"Oh, Martha," he murmurs deep in his throat, his long fingers caressing her curves. "Look at you - you're _fantastic_."

She pulls the blindfold up and gives him a cheeky grin. "Yeah, I know." And there he is in front of her, quite naked and quite real, and she stares, her breath catching in her throat. He looks thinner without any clothes on; she can see the outline of his ribs, the shadows in stark contrast with the rest of his skin. For some reason, the freckles on his shoulders catch her eye, and she runs her fingertips over them, then along the line of his collarbone.

His eyelids fall shut when she touches him, and she can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. "Is it all right, then?" he asks thickly, licking his lips, and suddenly Martha realises that he really _is_ nervous, probably just as nervous as she is.

"'Course it is," she reassures him, taking his hand and tugging him to the bed. "More than all right - it's brilliant. _You're_ brilliant."

And the Doctor gives her one of his infectious grins, but there's definitely more than a hint of arousal in this one, and it makes her shiver deliciously and think all _sorts_ of inappropriate thoughts.

His grin widens. "Why, Martha Jones, I never knew you had it in you." When Martha gives him a confused look, he goes on to explain: "Arousal sort of...heightens the telepathic field. When I'm in contact with you like this, I can, ah, pick up your surface memories. Useful little trick, yeah?" He pulls her down onto the bed, and she falls on top of him, tangled up in his long limbs. She kisses him soundly, thinking of a few more things she'd rather like to try.

"I think," he murmurs against her lips, "those might be illegal in a few galaxies." Not that he seems to mind one bit; he wraps his hands around her hips, pulling her tightly against him, and she can't quite manage to form a coherent thought anymore.

They move together for what seems like an eternity, the Doctor exploring her skin with his mouth when he's not busy kissing her. Martha's lost in the rhythmic movements, the slow ebb and flow, and when she closes her eyes, she swears she can feel the turning of the universe. And then it crescendoes into something frenzied, darker and more primal, the tempo of three heartbeats urging them on, faster and faster until she reaches her climax and everything else ceases to exist for that one infinite moment. He shouts out just after she comes, thrusting up into her as he grips her hips, and they both collapse on the bed, clinging to each other.

She watches the Doctor for a moment; he looks completely unguarded right now, and it makes her breath catch in her throat. She reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing it, and he gives her a bit of a smile. "Thank you, Martha," he says quietly, and she doesn't have to ask him for what - because it's not just the sex, it's _everything_. Going with him in the first place, working alongside him, watching over him and keeping him safe, just _being_ there. He's never expressed appreciation for what she does before, and she's never asked for it; it's enough for her to just do it. 

All the same, she smiles back at him. "It's nothing, Doctor." But to her, it's everything.


End file.
